


Handsome Devil

by spareteeth



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Bottom Jack, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, M/M, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Power Struggle, Shameless Smut, Top Rhys, oops i slept with my boss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 09:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18736705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spareteeth/pseuds/spareteeth
Summary: Rhys works in HR and sleeps with his boss, what a dummy. This, of course becomes eternally hilarious to Handsome Jack, aforementioned boss. [A one-shot for now but if y’all like it I’m down to write more]





	Handsome Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real attempt at writing something so uhh if you have any criticism I’m all ears! Hope you enjoy it ^_^

“Oh fuck.” 

The soft groan, tinged with the ache that only a serious hangover could bring upon a mortal soul, caught in a throat raw from shouting over the deafening music of the club. With eyes heavy as bowling balls, Rhys scanned the room for any trace of the man he’d been with last night. Nowhere to be seen. That hadn’t surprised him, in fact he was quite content with the situation. He hated waking up to a stranger in his home, not knowing when they’ve overstayed their welcome. He thought back to a certain girl who decided it would be okay to start snooping around his drawers while he slept, and cringed at the memory of her finding some rather incriminating pornography involving a short skirt and a pair of legs that went on for miles. Yeah, waking up alone was much better.

 

Rhys grabbed his cheap comforter and lazily uncovered himself, his slender legs prickling with goosebumps at the cool air. He was sore as all hell, whoever he met with last night must have had quite the energy. With a grunt, he pushed himself off the bed, relying on his metal arm to do the brunt of the work, before shuffling over to assess his appearance in the mirror. Slothful man that he is, the full-body mirror leaned against the wall he told himself he was too busy to hang it on. As he inspected himself, he noticed harsh, dark bruises on his hips, the unmistakable shape of hands throttling his hips. Curious, he pressed his fingers against the purpled flesh, eliciting a low sound of complaint from himself.  _ That bastard,  _ the thought hazily crossing his pounding brain. Next be noticed the various hickeys and teeth marks  starting at his abdomen and trailing up to his tattooed chest and neck. He was a bit impressed, and wracked his brain for any memory of who might have been the culprit. No luck, oh well.

 

Rhys turned to leave when he felt the stripes of pain down his back. He was almost afraid to turn his head and see, but he forced himself to, neck craning to his reflection behind him. A startled gasp betrayed him as he gazed upon the dark red scratches running up and down his spine, “Holy shit.” A few were still seeping blood, the unnatural pose he was holding splitting the seams of newly formed scabs. He risked a glance at his bed, and sure enough streaks of blood stained the sheets. The sight almost made him woozy, and he took a second to regain his composure before finally turning away from the sight. No time to worry about that, he was already late for work. Now aware of the carnage tearing at his skin, getting dressed felt like whips on his back, the less than expensive button up felt like flames licking his wounds.

 

He lived only a short distance away from the boardroom he was to be meeting some higher ups in, so he decided to walk to work today. Fresh air and mild exercise were supposed to help alleviate hangovers, right? His pace was casual, some might even say relaxed, but his brain was working a mile a minute. Meetings on Helios were nerve wracking, and he wasn’t really sure what he was walking into. Or rather, who. These randomly assigned meetings served as progress reports in a way, you were expected to show up and answer any questions your assorted bosses had for you concerning your work. They never told you who would be sitting in on the questioning, although usually it was one of the CEO’s assistants and one or two smaller authority figures from your department. The anonymity was supposed to keep you on your toes, so you didn’t know when a certain masked madman decided he would drop in and check things out for himself.

 

Rhys found himself at the door, hesitating before shaking off his nerves, finding his fear ridiculous. There was no way Handsome Jack would turn up at such a silly meeting.  _ I mean please, HR? Not exactly the Big Boss’s thing, _ he chuckled to himself as he walked through the entrance.

 

_ Holy mother of the gods. _

 

Turns out, HR  _ was  _ the Big Boss’s thing. At least today. Rhys swallowed, his mouth feeling dry and swollen with sudden anxiety. Jack hadn’t noticed his entrance yet, he was preoccupied with whatever he was kicking lightly. Abject horror settled on Rhys’ skin like a particular oppressive fog as he realized what —  _ who —  _ his boss was nudging. A man just barely above Rhys in rank lay gurgling in a pool of his own blood, fingers twitching as his last breaths escaped shallowly before his head finally lolled to one side. 

 

“Jesus, you HR guys can’t even die in a fun way, can you?” the snide voice muttered at the corpse. Staring at the mess for a second, Rhys wondered if he should initiate the conversation and how the hell he could manage to do that when Jack clapped his hands together in finality and turned on his heel to face a man he could kill with a scathing glare alone. He wore a plastered smile on his masked face and Rhys couldn’t meet his eyes, searching for anywhere else to look before his eyes landed on the man’s throat. 

 

_ You’ve got to be kidding me. _

 

A hickey graced the tanned skin at this jugular, mottled reds and purples looking right at home next to the spatter of HR management's blood, and a flood of memories bombarded Rhys’ system. At his wide eyes, Jack’s businessman smile shifted into a knowing grin, teeth bared proudly as he slunk his way over to his employee. He stopped a fraction of an inch away from Rhys’ face, their noses only a hair away from nuzzling. He could smell the adrenaline of a fresh kill on the man, the sheen of sweat now familiar as last night's events played back in his mind.

 

_ He had been out celebrating a promotion Vaughn had just received . His friend in accounting had ended up turning in early, excited to get started the next day. Rhys had told him that he would hang back a bit, he hadn’t danced since college and he was itching to tangle himself in the mass of bodies. The lights pulsed in technicolor as he squeezed his way into the teeming, sweaty crowd. He had been on the floor for no longer than five minutes when he felt of the presence of a sturdy body flush against his backside. Rhys, ever the party animal, embraced the experience, his hips swaying with the same ease as before as the man behind him quickly fell into rhythm with him. His ass grinded back into the man's crotch, feeling a twitch of excitement from his newfound dance partner. After a few more moments of this, the man leaned in to say something in Rhys ear. He couldn’t quite make out the words but he recognized the strained tone, dripping with lust and his blood immediately rushed south. Without getting a good glimpse of who he was fraternizing so heavily with he grabbed the man’s hand and led him to a corridor with less foot traffic, pushing past faceless bodies. He finally looked the man in the eye, taking a moment to process who he was. _

 

_ In a tipsy slur, the words, “I know you,” fell from his lips like a klutz from a cliff.  _

 

_ “Yeah, I was worried for a second you weren’t lucid enough to reach that conclusion.” _

 

_ “Don’t worry, just a buzz.” _

 

As the pieces clicked into place in Rhys’ brain, a blush crept up his neck.

 

“There ya go, cupcake! You figured it out,” Jack sneered, “I’m almost proud of you.”

 

Rhys was petrified, he was a skag caught in the headlights of the sickest bastard you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting. What was he supposed to do? Grovel and beg for mercy? Run? Kiss him? They were so close he could taste the toothpaste on Jack’s breath.

 

With bated breath, he tried for words, “So… what now?”

 

Jack chuckled darkly, “Well usually I’d have to dispose of you, but you’ve got a certain, shall we say,  _ tenacity _ that I haven’t seen in anyone in quite a long time.” His hands, formerly crossed, came to rest on his inferior’s bruised hips with more force than was necessary. At Rhys’ wince he quirked one of his arched brows and continued, “Sorry I had to jet this morning without saying ‘kthanksbye,’ had a meeting with Tediore to discuss some shit before this one. Way above your paygrade.” 

 

Rhys fidgeted nervously, his squirming obviously delighting Jack, “What tenacity?”

 

“You were very refreshing, didn’t even think twice about fucking the shit outta me. Most people aren’t that brave. And hey, don’t get me wrong. I had every intention of making you my bitch last night, but it was nice not to do all the work for a change.”

 

_ They kissed with very little acknowledgement of the other people in the hall, tongues exploring each other and teeth grazing swollen lips with the urgency of men on the frontlines of battle. Rhys had a handful of Jack’s hair and tugged, forcing an uncharacteristic mewl out of him. That feeling of power over one of the most important men in the universe thrilled Rhys, sent shockwaves through his cybernetics and down his spinal cord, ending in a pressure just at the base of his spine. So he tugged again, this time separating the desperate mouths and he attacked Jack’s throat, biting the most sensitive parts he could find and pressing open mouthed kisses wherever else he could reach. Jack, dumbfounded by the unexpected dominance of another, went boneless as he felt a cold, metallic hand creep its way up his shirt to meet the heated skin of his abdomen and chest. He fumbled to remove the shirt, wanting his partner to see as well as feel the body he overworked for. _

 

_ “Too many layers, need to wear less,” Rhys chided, surprising himself in his collected demeanor. His blood was boiling and he could hear his own heartbeat, his erection unmistakably now to the few people who remained in the hall to watch the show, “That’s okay though, can’t get too into it here. Wanna go back to my place?” He pulled away, Jack huffing indignantly at the loss of contact. _

 

_ “You’d better live close by, or I’ll-“ his pouting silenced by a chaste kiss and away he was dragged off again, shooting death glares at the bystanders who’s curious gazes trailed in his wake.  _

 

_ How they’d gotten to the apartment so quickly was a blur, but certain highlights stuck out, like in the elevator where Rhys couldn’t keep his hands to himself, palming the other man’s erection, much to the shock of the young woman sharing the closed space with them and the arousal of the recipient. Jack would be lying if he said he didn’t like being watched, even if it was a shy side eye from the corner of the lift. Just for her, he’d made eye contact and moaned lubriciously. She yelped quietly and turned her back entirely.  _

 

_ As soon as their floor arrived they practically tumbled out, drunk and lost in desire. Rhys’ room was right across from the elevator, thank the gods, and he made quick work of unlocking the door, flesh hand massaging the small of Jack’s back. Rhys pulled Jack in for another heated kiss and pushed him against the door, opening it suddenly. He bumped it closed with his hips as they maneuvered their way to the other side of it. Rhys licked a stripe up the shell of Jack’s ear, loving the way he trembled when he blew cool air on it. _

 

_ “Bit of an attention whore on the way up here, huh?” Rhys couldn’t help the tension in his voice, his erection neglected in the rush to make it home. _

 

_ Jack blushed deeply, the redness showing from behind the mask, something Rhys didn’t think was possible to ever see, “I gotta get my kicks somehow.” Jack took this opportunity to bite down on his partner’s collarbone, peeking from his messily unbuttoned shirt as he finally worked his own layers off, the clothes becoming a heap on the ground. Jack was soon wearing nothing but his pants, Rhys still mostly clothed. _

 

_ “Aw, come on, don’t stop now,” Rhys cooed, “I wanna see the rest. Now tell me, is Mr. Hyperion a boxers or briefs kinda guy?” Rhys had pushed him into the other room by now, and he shoved Jack onto the bed before working the buckle of his belt and shirking the trousers. A surprised note dangled in his melodic voice, “Oh, neither.” He ran a cold, metal finger up the length, pausing at the slit to gather the beaded precum.  _

 

_ “Someone’s excited,” Rhys teased and licked the slick off his finger, maintaining eye contact with an aggressively aroused Jack. He could tell by the look in his eye he was planning something nefarious, but honestly he couldn’t care less. Even if Jack killed him on the spot he had won, even for just a brief moment, and the thrum of power in his veins was absolutely delectable.  _

 

_ “Fuck me.” _

_ “Not just yet, Jack. You know patience is a virtue-“ _

 

_ The pain registered before the thought did,  _ He just slapped me.  _ Jack took Rhys by the throat and roughly pushed him on his back, head bumping the headrest, “I’ve had just about enough of this shit.” His tone was aggressive, but nowhere near as aggressive as the bites he left all over his torso, not bothering to kiss the pain away afterwards. He roughly grabbed a hold of Rhys’ hips, his strong grip threatening to destroy. Rhys’ was somehow even more turned on by the pain, surprised at himself as he’d never really been too keen on it before. His thought pattern was interrupted by Jack firmly grazing teeth down the underside of his cock, a gasp of pain and shock catching in his throat at the threat of what he might do next. This time, Jack showed a bit of mercy, sloppily kissing the mark he’d left with a satisfied smirk, “Keep acting like you’re the boss and I’ll bite it clean off.” He punctuated the promise with a nip to Rhys’ testicle, to which he yelped.  _

 

_ “Where do you keep your lube?” Jack asked him with a sickly sweet voice as he slowly stroked his own dick, just enough to keep it up. Rhys wiggled in embarrassment under his intimidating gaze and managed to speak, “Nightstand to your right, top drawer.”  _

 

_ Jack retrieved the tube and popped the lid, squirting a liberal amount onto the palm of his hand, “This might be a bit cold, just a warning,” he quipped as he began to caress Rhys’ neglected dick. He hissed,  _ Yeah, it’s definitely cold _ , but kept his mouth shut for fear of Jack’s earlier threat. Luckily for him, it warmed up pretty quickly as he shallowly thrust his hips to meet Jack’s hand, giving just enough friction to drive him insane. He let out a low moan, rumbling from the back of his throat and arched his back, practically begging for any sort of additional attention. _

 

_ “Jesus christ, princess, just be patient. Didn’t you- nngh- say that’s a virtue?” Jack’s voice was high and breathy, and Rhys opened his eyes in curiosity (when had he closed them?) to find the other man stretching himself open on his own hand. Rhys had to bite his lip to prevent an embarrassing noise from slipping out and he watched. Jack’s brows were knit together in concentration, eyes half lidded and mouth parted perfectly like some sort of pornstar, he let out small huffs of breath on every upstroke, just the hint of a moan on his lips. _

 

_ “Let me help with that,” Rhys grabbed the man’s busy hand and pulling it away, “Lean back.” _

 

_ “Oh no no no. Not gonna happen.” _

 

_ “Hey,” he spoke softly, “trust me, okay? I can make you feel good.” Rhys cringed inwardly at his own words, but they seemed to work and Jack leaned back, legs spread so Rhys could reach his entrance. He was gorgeous like this, sweaty and open for someone he’d only just met. The way he tensed up when Rhys grazed his slick hole was telling of his inexperience with being the catcher as opposed to the pitcher and Rhys smiled softly at him, brushing stray hair out of his face with his free hand as he slid one finger in. Jack let himself moan, but he wasn’t relaxed enough for much more than he was currently taking. His ears were red with humiliation as he lay exposed. Rhys leaned in to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, using the metal hand to ever so gently stroke his cock, not wanting to hurt him. Not yet anyways. Jack began to ease up, his muscles not as tightly wound and Rhys saw this as his chance to slide another finger in, pumping them in and out, curled right at the last knuckle. The man under him whining and bucking his hips lightly, he began his assault of kisses to his chest, laving his tongue over his nipples, prompting a surprised but pleased moan that made Rhys’ dick twitch. _

 

_ He made quick work of finishing the prep, and had Jack flip over onto his hands and knees. Lining his cock up between the clefts of Jack’s ass, he teased the powerful man, heard the sound of his whispered pleas for more. _

 

_ “What’s that, Jack? I can’t hear you,” Rhys teased and his victim pressed his hips back onto him, dropping to his elbows and arching his well muscled back. _

 

_ “Don’t make me say it.” _

 

_ “Yeah, okay, you’re obvious desperation will just have to appease me.” _

 

_ Jack was about to protest when Rhys began sliding in, completely stilling as he was filled up. He panted, not expecting it to hurt as much as it did, but he supposed it came with the area. The man behind him grunted, thrusting a few shallow times before continuing on his route, slowly but surely pushing until his hips met the soft skin of Jack’s ass. He openly moaned at how amazing Jack felt, both hands roaming his body. Jack couldn’t tell whether he loved or hated the cold hand warm hand back and forth, but when they both rested on his hips and squeezed gently he decided to let it go and figure it out another time. _

 

_ “You ready, Jack?” Rhys inquired, raring to go. Jack’s pained voice failed him, so he silently nodded, bottom lip caught between his teeth as Rhys slowly fucked him. The stretch was vertigo-inducing, and he wondered if this was what it felt like every time. Again, he found himself conflicted on how he felt about the sensations, until Rhys found a spot that told him that he definitely loved it.  _

 

_ “Fuck! Right there, yeah,” he drawled, arousal bringing tears to his mismatched eyes when Rhys took that as a cue to start moving faster, hips snapping unexpectedly hard into that sweet spot. Jack gasped and screwed his eyes shut as Rhys mercilessly rammed him, greedily using his body for his own pleasure. The shock was enough to keep Jack from getting mad that the gentle lover had left, and opened his eyes to the splendor of this new situation. _

 

_ Then he had a thought, “You know- ah- I really would like to- oh- scream your name right now- unnf- but for the life of me- fuck- I can’t remember what it is.” _

 

_ “Rhys,” was the answer, too horny to care that Jack hadn’t thought to ask before. _

 

_ “Rhys, Rhys, Rhys,” Jack muttered the name like a personal prayer, giving his body as a sacrificial offering, enjoying the ravaging of his own body, “Fuck, Rhys, baby, this is great and all, but maybe we should change things up before it’s over too quickly?” _

 

_ “What do you want?” _

 

_ “God, I wanna ride you.” _

 

_ Rhys pulled out without warning to switch positions, leaving Jack feeling hollowed out and gutted like a- well, like a Jack-o-Lantern. That’s funny, he’ll remember to use that one later. As Rhys sat back against the headboard, Jack scrambled to straddle his narrow hips, faces only inches away from each other. Rhys helped to line himself up so Jack could place each hand on either side, fingernails digging into the flesh at his sides as he sunk down onto the other man’s lap. _

 

_ “Oh holy fucking shit, that feels way different,” he keened, as his prostate rested against the head of Rhys’ cock, giving an experimental grind that made both men hiss through their teeth. With trembling thighs, Jack began to bounce, grunts groans sounding out from both of them with each repetition. Jack’s hands began to bruise Rhys’ hips, but if the other man cared he sure as hell wasn't acting like it.  _

 

_ Jack had learned that apparently, Rhys was incredibly impatient, pulling him in for a heated kiss and pushing him over so they were in missionary position.  _

 

_ “Heh, kinda plain, isn’t it?” He remarked, eyes widening when Rhys began to lift Jack’s legs onto his own shoulders, angling their hips just right before piledriving him into the mattress. He grunted loudly with the exertion as well as the intense pleasure. Rhys hoped to the gods that Jack would come first, not sure if he’d survive if he didn’t. Soon enough, though, he got his wish, when he switched up the position so that his arms were bracketing Jack’s head. Jack came with tears in his eyes and Rhys’ name on his tongue, semen spilling out onto his own stomach. The clenching of his walls around Rhys’ cock pushed him over the edge as well, whimpering and shallowly thrusting his way through his orgasm, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. The afterglow left him shaky and weak, too preoccupied by his own drunkenness to care about much else than how Jack looked with covered in his own come and leaking with Rhys’.  _

 

_ As he collapsed on the bed next to Jack, the last thing he remembered before dozing off was Jack weakly hoisting himself off the bed to clean himself up, muttering something resentful about the other falling asleep without helping him out.  _

 

“Hello? Earth to Rhysie? Yeah, hi, there you are,” Jack scowled in annoyance at Rhys getting lost in his own thoughts, “Did you hear what I just said to you?”

 

Rhys shook his head, a bit ashamed of how easily he was distracted from the real Handsome Jack by the memory of him, “No, sorry.”

 

“I  _ said, _ ‘You’d better get ready for next time, I won’t let you take the lead so easily,’” he repeated himself, interest in the conversation draining quickly. 

 

“I hope you like leather,” he added with a wink as he walked past Rhys, ending the conversation with a sharp swat on the ass, leaving the flabbergasted young man to piece together the implications of that parting statement.

  
  



End file.
